Chapter 1
Iused to say I would never step foot in Cape Weston again.
For eleven years, it was a promise that kept me going. I might have a bank account in the negative, and my sheets might smell like yeast from the microbrewery under my apartment, but at least I wasn’t back there; I never would be again.
I guess I can now addliarto the list of things that are wrong with me.
The air inside my car is stifling, but I can’t find the will to get out. I’ve been parked in front of my grandmother Ruth’s house for the past ten minutes, knowing the second I step out, I won’t be able to escape reality anymore. I’ll truly be back, and she’ll truly be gone.
I should’ve known if I ever returned to this cursed town, it’d be in service to her.
The weathered house looks more or less the same as it does in my memories, although the lack of smoke coming from the chimney and the wilted plants in the flower bed she used to care for like a child,are dead giveaways Ruth isn’t here anymore. Even so, the screech of seagulls woven with thewhooshof the waves crashingagainst the reef behind the house reminds me precisely where I am.
Home.
I give myself one last minute of holding off the inevitable, then step out of the car and make my way up to the front porch, careful not to look at the neglected plants. If I start giving notice to all the tiny details reminding me of Ruth, I won’t survive the day, let alone the next four weeks. The wood creaks under my feet as I lift the garden gnome that sits not so subtly next to the door and pick up the key underneath. I used to tell her how dangerous it was to leave her house key in such an obvious place. She’d laugh and tap my thigh before saying, “Cassie, honey, no one bothers old bats like me.” Then, she’d wink and lean back to sip her gin martini, and even if her words weren’t reassuring, her posture was, and I’d drop it.
Today, I’m happy she was always stubborn and never listened to me. I didn’t have a backup plan for where to stay if I didn’t have access to the house. I don’t think I’d be welcome at my sister’s place, my childhood home is an obvious no, and with no income for the foreseeable future, I can’t spend money on touristy motels in town, especially not during the high season.
The second I step inside, my breath catches at the memories that bombard me all at once. I can almost hear Stevie Nicks playing from the lime green vinyl player, Ruth’s off-key voice in the background. Can almost smell Ruth's perfume wrapping around me on the evenings I found myself here, tucked against her on the corduroy couch. But now, it just smells like dust and damp becauseno one has been here in a month to open that ocean-facing window and let the salt-tinged breeze in.
My chest begins to burn as images of my last night here come back to me. A bruised face that led to a wad of cash being pressed in my hand, a kiss to my cheek, and an encouragement to get out of this place and never look back.
I realize I’m trembling when I feel my bags vibrating against my legs. Letting them fall to the ground, I cross the small house, passing the empty kitchen and dining room, and walk straight out the patio door and into a view of endless sea. The wind stings my face and ruffles the strands of hair that escaped my ponytail. My head is overcrowded, like a water balloon about to explode. I should have been braver and come back before. Why did I wait for her to be gone? Even if she’s the one who suggested I go, I know deep inside, she expected it to be temporary. If not, why would she have named me as her estate executor? She would have known I’d never be able to say no to something like that.
Right now, I hate her for it almost as much as I miss her.
Get yourself together.
I repeat the mantra over and over, but I can’t get the overwhelming wheel to stop spinning. I didn’t get to say goodbye. Didn’t even get a notice that she had passed until after her funeral was over. My nose stings as I try to get more air, but the deeper I try to inhale, the narrower my airways feel, like they’re getting crushed from the inside, crumbling onto themselves.
Even with the sun hidden behind thick charcoal clouds, the air is warm, humid and thick with the sense of foreboding rain. Sweatdrips between my breasts, down my back, and with my throat feeling dryer and tighter, I look out at the water and know there’s one thing left to do. The only thing that could keep my teenage mind quiet when it burst into flames.
In an instant, my T-shirt and jeans are on the ground. Not caring that a neighbor could see, I run toward the shore in my matching set of black bra and panties. Ruth’s house was built facing a rocky bank, giving the impression that it’s floating over the body of water. For people who aren’t used to it, it’s terrifying to jump from the edge, but I know exactly where to aim so I don’t hit anything.
So, I jump.
The shock of the water engulfing me—so cold, it burns—makes me gasp, and I have to swim up to cough out the water I inhaled. Hair plastered against my face, I choke and cough some more, swimming in place. I’m far enough from the shore that I can’t lean against anything, the ground too deep for me to stand. My heart is galloping, this time for a different reason than it did a minute ago. I can’t feel my body, almost as if it’s gone numb, and I’m weightless. I wipe the salt from my eyes as I catch my breath, swallowing against my burning throat.
And for the first time today, I feel light.
Tilting my body back, I let myself float, getting rocked by the waves with my eyes closed. As much as I told myself I didn’t miss this place, nothing compares to this feeling. My ears are covered by the water, drowning the outside noises, but mostly the inside ones. I don’t have to think about the mistakes I made at work that forced my boss to put me on leave. Don’t have to wonder about thefaces I’ll eventually come across in town. Don’t have to think about Ruth lying to me for years, never telling me she was sick during our weekly calls.
I’m not sure how long I remain like this, simply breathing and floating, the temperature of the water becoming tolerable, then comfortable. When I open my eyes, the afternoon light has dimmed into early evening, and I realize I’ve drifted a little, so I swim back toward the edge. It’s only about three feet in height, and when I was younger, I’d wait for the current to bring me closer to the bedrock, then grip the wall and hoist myself out of the water. I wait to do the same this time, except the current seems to have gotten stronger while I was relaxing, and now, when it brings me toward the bank, it’s with a scary force. I don’t reach the rock with a gentle boost but rather with a violent push that makes me bite my tongue as I hold onto the edge for dear life. The taste of blood fills my mouth, turning my face into a scowl as I try to pull myself out of the water.
And fail.
In my genius plan to jump into the water without a floating device, I forgot to consider that I hadn’t done this in more than a decade and had probably lost a lot of upper muscle strength in that time frame.
I try to hoist myself up once more, but just as I reach for a higher level of rock, a wave crashes into my back, making me lose my grip and fall back into the water.
I lose sight of where I am for a moment, then heave in a breath when I reach fresh air. I try to grab another hold, but my risingpanic and the worsening current makes it impossible. I can only grapple against the rocks before I’m pulled back down by the roaring water.
So, this is how I die. Too weak to do a chin-up. Embarrassing, honestly.
I don’t have the time to inhale before another wave stretches over me, then rams me into the rocky wall. I’m dog-paddling now, trying to hold on to anything I can grasp, to no avail. When I meet air again, I gasp for breath, and that’s when a loud voice calls out, “Here, hold on!”
Disoriented and terrified, I’m not sure where the voice is coming from, and as I continue trying to reach the wall, I feel something else: a hand. I hold onto it as tightly as I can, and before I can think of what is happening, I’m being pulled out of the water in one swift move, as if I truly am weightless.
